


Dad and Pa

by unlockthelore



Series: Family Is Who You Choose [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Parents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-10-13 01:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17478521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unlockthelore/pseuds/unlockthelore
Summary: Jesse McCree and Hanzo Shimada have been called many things in their lives but 'dad' and 'pa' carry a whole new weight that both of them have to face together. Experience stories of the Shimada-McCree family in snippets and drabbles as they try to navigate domestic life and raising their children.CH 4:A little match between brothers breaks out, Hanzo and Jesse talk a little, and a minor mistake is made.A companion fic toFamily Is Who You Choose.





	1. High Hopes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Family Is Who You Choose](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16610270) by [unlockthelore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unlockthelore/pseuds/unlockthelore). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dragons are not to be trifled with and while their expectations might be high, they are also well-founded.

Jesse looked down at the replacement for his prosthesis and sighed. Saying that the mission was a complete success would depend on who you asked. Though they retrieved the intel about a dealer pedaling stolen fusion cores, it led to a shootout and quite a few casualties. One in particular that left Jesse feeling a little less handy and a little more grouchy. Not only did his arm get mangled to all hell but it would take about a week for a replacement with the repairs for the damage done to Reinhardt’s suit added to the list. Brigitte and Torbjorn reassured him it wouldn’t take long but Jesse had a sneaking suspicion it was only because he looked less homely cowboy and more murderous gunslinger. Rolling his eyes heavenward, he made a mental note to apologize to Angela before trudging off in the direction of his quarters.

Head bowed and spurs quieted, his thoughts blanketed by everything on the mission that went _wrong_. Sure, they got what was necessary but all the mistakes. All of the moments where a split second decision could’ve made the difference between life or death. Everyone got back okay, giving him smiles or pats on the back or shoulder, reassuring words and fleeting glances — but there was this voice in his head that said: “What if they didn’t”?  He told himself that the tiny voice was what kept him alive all these years. A survival instinct developed form his Blackwatch days. 

Necessary.

Imperative.

And entirely negative.

“I need a drink,” he grumbled, punching in the pin code and stepping inside.

Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he took off his hat and laid it gently against the wall, dragging it across until he found the hook and placed it on brushing his fingers against the brim. Unbidden, his thoughts turned to Gabriel and Jesse could hear his laughter and remember the way Gabriel shoved the hat over Jesse’s eyes. The irrate teen he’d been tilting it back with a glare and a sharp tongue ready to volly insults at Gabriel until he saw the wide grin.

No malice. No anger. No resentment. No belittling. Just pure joy.

It caught him off guard then.

And he ached for it now.

Hand flying to his bicep, Jesse chuckled mirthlessly and stepped backward, swaying with the guilt and sorrow that threatened to wash over him and drown him if he allowed it.

“No time for that now,” he said aloud, tutting as he staggered to his bed, dropping down with a heavy grunt and a few ragged breaths. “No time for that.”

Feeling around on his bedside table, his fingers passing over his reading glasses, upside down shot glass, then the cool exterior of a bottle. Grabbing hold of its neck, he slowly sat up and set it between his thighs, unscrewing the top and putting it aside. A part of him told him this was pathetic. Why in hell was he drinking away his sorrows in a dark room at the ass crack of dawn when he could be somewhere else? In the arms of somebody who cared, with a listening ear, and a comforting smile. He traced the mouth of the bottle and lifted it to his lips, imagining the light amber-brown liquid trapped inside, but it did little in comparison to warm brown eyes.

Dark hair fanned against white pillows, open arms beckoning him closer without explanation, holding him tight as if he were something precious. Jesse lowered the bottle and gritted his teeth. It shouldn’t be like this. Jesse McCree didn’t need to be _held_ when he had a bad day. It was life, suck it up and move on. But the traitorous voice in mind told him that he _wanted_ to be held. It would have been so easy too. Get up, leave his room, make his way to Hanzo’s place, show up, make a joke or crack a smile, it didn’t matter either way — Hanzo could always see through him.

From one bullshitter to the other, Jesse presumed, giggling brokenly. His voice strangely loud in the silence and it made his heart ache at how _alone_ he felt. Sure, he’d spent years on the run and could handle a bit of loneliness but going so long with human contact. People who actually gave a damn. It was hard to just snap back to old ways with nothing to spur it on. He held the bottle tight in his hand, enough that he could feel the dull pain from the glass pressing into his skin.

_You’re being silly, Jesse McCree. A god damn fool._

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to will the thoughts away but they only returned stronger every time. He was stuck. Stuck on the feeling of being a part of something that was much bigger than himself.

He was part of a family whether he liked it or not — and _yes_ , he liked it and he hated it.

Why couldn’t he just wallow for a little bit? A man deserved his privacy!

**But you are not just a man anymore.**

Jesse stiffened up as the thunderous booming voice overtook his thoughts and chased everything else from his mind. Eyes blown wide, he looked around the dark expanse of his room, catching the faintest of light emanating from the wall above his bed. The light grew brighter and brighter as two _dragons_ materialized from the wall, their translucent forms winding and twisting around one another as they floated lazily through the air. Much smaller than he’d seen them on the field but big enough that he knew what they were, and as they exited the wall and floated in the space above his head, their pupilless eyes turned towards him.

Despite their translucent forms, their eyes were reflective and he could see himself staring back with a slacked jaw and wide eyes. Snapping his jaw shut and setting the bottle aside, he swallowed hard and quirked a hesitant grin.

“Not every day I get to see you two,” he said cautiously, head cocked. “What’s the occasion?”

**We are happy to see you have returned, Jesse McCree.**

Breath hitching in his throat, Jesse tried to tell himself that his heart skipping a beat was from the voices booming in his head and not the admission. It wasn’t every day that otherworldly beings of destruction and unknown means of disaster capable of swallowing your enemies admitted that they missed you. His smile did widen and he shuffled backward, pressing his back to the wall as they floated closer, the light emitted from their bodies illuminating his remaining arm and most of his torso. While one of the dragons coiled around his arm, the other floated by the replacement and tilted its head to the side.

Jesse waited for the question to come but it never did. The other dragon coiled around his upper arm and laid its head against his shoulder. Sitting in the stillness and quiet, Jesse’s heart thumping wildly, he wondered what this could be. Did Hanzo send them? No, no. That couldn’t be it 

**You are correct, Jesse McCree.**

Jesse’s head snapped up and he looked into the dragon’s eyes. “Pardon?”

 **In a sense, you are correct. We were beckoned here at the behest of our master** **_though_ ** **by our own will.**

The thunderous voice toned down slightly almost sounded _bored_.  Like a teacher who’d stated the same answer several times but their student was no closer to figuring it out. Jesse swallowed, trying not to get his hopes high but his heart fluttered despite his protests.

One of the dragons, the one with the shorter cracked horn wound around his arm, undid itself and floated up until it was eye to eye with him.

**Our master cares for you. That is undeniable. But he does not control our will. We came on our own but at his behest.**

“So you’re sayin’ Han was worried about me but you guys came to make sure I was doin’ alright,” McCree said slowly, looking between the spirits.

**Yes.**

“I gotcha, but I’m—”

**Do not lie, Jesse McCree.**

The volume raised again and Jesse was effectively silenced. A smile that threatened to fall into place quickly wiped away and he looked down, feeling more like a chastised child. While the grouchier side of him wanted to tell them both to shove off he wasn’t a fool. On one hand, they could kill him if they wanted to. And on the other, they were part of Hanzo. 

“...” He bit the inside of his cheek, shutting his eyes.

 **Your spirit is troubled. We can see it. To lie is futile.**  

Of course, of course. How could he lie to a spirit that could _speak_ in his head?

Jesse _almost_ wanted to laugh if it weren’t for the piercing look the short-horned dragon pinned him with, reflective eyes boring into his own 

**Pride is an emotion that we know well, and it will lead to ruin if left unchecked. Is that not what you told our master, Jesse McCree?**

“...You…”

He remembered that time. On the roof, the stars dotting the sky, night wind’s chill making him wonder how this man could sit there with half his chest out and not even shudder. His eyes on the horizon while one hand held a gourd and the other rested on his knee. Without the children laughing and smiling at his side, his face was devoid of emotion and he was sitting on the edge. Jesse stalled the thoughts there.

“...You were listening even then. Why didn’t you..”

_Why didn’t you help him?_

**We do not often meddle in the affairs of our master unless it is absolutely necessary.**

“So this is necessary and _that_ wasn’t?” Jesse snapped, and he knew he shouldn’t have when the short-horned dragon’s eyes narrowed at him.

**Do not ask what is obvious, Jesse McCree. Our master was not in danger then and you know what we mean by that.**

Once the words set in, Jesse’s lips pressed together in a thin line and he nodded. “Right, right, sorry…” he mumbled, trying to make sense of the strange mix of embarrassment and joy.   

 **We have expectations of you and you have yet to fall short of them. We do not believe you will. You are a capable man, Jesse McCree, far more than what you may believe.**  

Startling, Jesse whispered softly, “Expectations…” 

 **In the absence of their mother, you have become a parental figure to our master’s young. You have helped to heal their wounds and bring them to a place of peace whether it was your intention or not. We may be presumptuous, but we believe that you will continue to do so.**  

“I just did what anyone would’ve,” Jesse scoffed, but he knew that wasn’t true. Almost everyone on base was curious about those kids, even Genji. Sure, they were nice to them. Who could be mean to a kid that they’d never met before — but those kids were like an extension of Hanzo himself and though no one wanted to admit it. 

Nobody wanted to associate with Genji’s would-be murderer more than they already needed to. 

 **Tell us, Jesse McCree. What is it that causes you to doubt yourself? What is it that makes you wish for solitude when you yearn for comfort?**  

Jesse closed his eyes and he could feel the tightness in his chest and for a second it was hard to breathe. There were many things he could tell them but he wondered what they already knew. Did they know about Gabriel? About Overwatch’s fallout? About the pain and anger he endured? How far did they look in his head? Did he even want them to look in his head?

The lack of breathing was dizzying and Jesse breathed in deeply through his nose then exhaled hard, feeling tired and worn and overwhelmingly _present_.

“Why do I got the sneaking suspicion that you know why?” Jesse said miserably, sinking against the wall.

**Humor us.**

“It’s a long explanation, darlin’ and I…” He squeezed his eyes shut when his voice wavered, forcing the next few words out. “I can’t handle it tonight.”

**Then we propose an accord.**

His eyes cracked open. “Of what?”

**We will waive the answers we seek if you seek what you truly desire.**

His eyes flew open and he gaped, words caught in his throat. “Wh—”

 **You need not to tell us now, Jesse McCree. But we will not allow you to sink into despair. Your feelings, your being, are of great importance to more than yourself.**  

“....Do ya..” Jesse swallowed thickly, glancing around his room, the darkness seeming less and less comforting  “Do ya mind walkin’ me there?”

For a moment, he wondered if they’d deny him that but the other dragon uncoiled from his arm and the other followed suit. Their bodies’ light growing brighter as they made a path from his bed to the doorway. 

**Not at all.**

Jesse stumbled to his feet, following after them. He didn’t need to be guided to Hanzo’s place. Hell, he spent most of his time there anyway. He knew the way like the back of his hand. But everytime his steps slowed or he chanced a glance over his shoulder, one of the dragons would brush against his side and another would butt against his his lower back spurring him to take another step forward. In what seemed like forever, he stood outside Hanzo’s door and the dragons gave him a cursory glance before phasing through it, leaving him alone in the hall with only one order. 

 **Knock**. 

Jesse lifted his fist, hand hovering inches away from the door but he couldn’t take the next step. It was late. He should have just returned to his room and been done with it but he was tired of being alone. Knocking lightly, he stiffened up when the door slid open revealing Hanzo in all his glory. Hair down, a short-sleeved standard Overwatch t-shirt that barely seemed to fit his frame, and sweatpants. His arms folded across his chest, one eyebrow raised as he stared up at Jesse. 

All smooth thoughts and witty introductions left Jesse’s mind but his mouth continued on as if they were there.

“...H—” he started, pausing in mid-word, faltering before trying to start again. “I…”

No that was no good either. And even when Jesse lifted his hand to tip his hat, he failed to notice that he forgot it in his room. He felt like a wreck.

Perhaps Hanzo sensed it too.

“Genji told me that you’ve been to Japan, learned and studied our native tongue and customs. So... “

Unfolding his arms, Hanzo held them out with enough space that Jesse could’ve easily fit inbetween. Jesse’s chest tightened and his breath hitched.

 “Okaeri.”

Jesse knew that his expression must’ve been something bad as Hanzo faltered for a second, eyes wide and expression a touch concerned. Taking a deep ragged breath, Jesse lunged forward and buried his face in Hanzo’s neck,  wrapping his arm around the other man’s waist and squeezing tight. 

“...Tadaima,” he choked out, trying to stifle a shuddering sigh.

“It is alright, Jesse. You are home now.”


	2. You Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BAMF or not, Jesse McCree is human just like anyone else and sometimes validation is needed.

It is moments like this that make Jesse despise the depths of his own mind. Wrapped in Hanzo’s embrace, with the smell of sandalwood and vanilla to comfort him, it should have been impossible for his mind to fester some sort of negativity from this, right? How hopelessly wrong could he have been. Letting his eyes crack open, he stares aimlessly into the long shadows cast from the hall’s dim lighting and a few details decide to make themselves painfully known.

Hanzo is wearing his pajamas, it is still early in the morning, there are two small children in the vicinity, and this is  _ not _ his room. Stiffening in Hanzo’s grasp, Jesse almost hates how quickly the archer adapts by loosening his hold. Despite being down one arm and a less than sound mind, Jesse could’ve easily broken out of Hanzo’s hold but his traitorous mind and body didn’t want to budge. Instead, he did the one thing that he knew how.

Talk his way out of a situation.

“Look at me, blubberin’ like a baby,” Jesse huffed, resting his chin on Hanzo’s shoulder. “Don’t you go tellin’ anyone about this, Han.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes and pulled one of his arms back, pinching Jesse’s cheek and giving it a light tug. “As attractive as your combat skills and rugged charm may be, it is also comforting that you feel the need to cry like any other being,” Releasing Jesse’s cheek, Hanzo shifted in Jesse’s hold and held his face in his hands, a soft smile tugging at his lips when taking in the sight of Jesse’s wide eyes. “And it is humbling that you feel safe enough to show your vulnerability to me. Your trust is not to be taken lightly.”

“Shoot darlin’, it ain’t nothin’ that special’,” Jesse mumbled, breath catching when Hanzo’s thumb wipes away a stray tear. “Just cryin’.”

“To you, perhaps,” Hanzo traces Jesse’s cheekbones with nimble fingers, letting them trail up and disappear into dark brown strands of hair, brushing it behind Jesse’s ears as Hanzo leaned closer to press their foreheads together. “Tell me what troubles your spirit, Jesse.”

Although it is fairly dark and Jesse can barely see the finer details of Hanzo’s face, he has them memorized to a T. The curve of his eyelashes, the faint scar on his chin and the other along his eyebrow, the quirk of his lip when he smiled, shape of his nose, the shades of brown in his eyes — wait, what was he doing? Squeezing his eyes sight, Jesse huffed through his nose and tried to keep his mind clear but he could hear Hanzo’s breaths. Even, soft, in for five counts, out for five, then repeat. It took him a second to notice that he was following along with his own breathing. A slight haze overtaking the panic that spurred the tears to his eyes in the first place.

Swallowing down a bitter laugh, Jesse had to wonder when Hanzo began to have this sort of effect on him. For someone who was so dangerous and imposing, he could calm him down within minutes. It was a feat to behold and some part of Jesse wanted to be annoyed but it was outnumbered by the fondness. Giving in to Hanzo’s hold, their noses brushed together, Hanzo’s fingers combing through his Jesse’s hair lightly scratching at his scalp.

“I should be askin’ you that,” Jesse mumbled, trying to pinpoint the words through the haze. “How long were you waitin’...”

“For you to knock?” Hanzo interrupted with a thoughtful hum then a casual shrug. “Not long.  _ They _ alerted me to your presence.”

Jesse scoffed, letting his eyes slip shut. “So much for the element of surprise.”

“No, you still maintained it,” Hanzo reassured, although there was a slight tease to his tone that made Jesse happy he couldn’t see his grin in this lighting.

“Didn’ you sic your… dragons after me though?”

“Not exactly. As I’ve told you before, I do not control them.”

With Hanzo’s fingers in his hair and his warmth encasing him, it was hard to find the will to string a sentence together. Everything was comfortable and soft. Jesse was almost certain that if his knees gave out right then and there, Hanzo wouldn’t have any trouble keeping him upright. 

“Just suggestions,” Jesse mumbled, drawing light circles on Hanzo’s hip.

“Only suggestions,” Hanzo replied, his breath warm against Jesse’s face, a smile in his voice. “I am but a man, Jesse.”

Jesse huffed, cracking open his eyes. “More like an angel.”

He’d seen Hanzo on the battlefield. The man fought like a god, but he was right in a way, he bled like a man. If anything, Hanzo was some cross between a deity and a human. If he read that one manga of Genji’s right, something like a demihuman? Neither of them really explained or cared to clarify on what exactly the Dragons were. Just gave shrugs and vague explanations, hell, who knew -- they might be dragons in disguise.

Would explain how Hanzo was so goddamn handsome.

“Ridiculous,” Hanzo mumbles, drawing Jesse away from his thoughts, the cowboy grinning lazily despite the archer’s inability to see it.

“There’s my Hanny.”

Jesse could almost picture the way Hanzo’s eyebrows furrowed, the creases in his forehead, the roll of his eyes, and the smile he tried to fight down.

“Also ridiculous.”

Nose to nose with Hanzo, Jesse chuckled. “Honey, then?”

“And the food pet names make a devastating return,” Hanzo sighs, feigning annoyance with a heavy sigh. “How predictable.”   
“But not unwarranted, right?” Jesse asks, trying to keep the hopeful edge from his tone, but the slight itch is hard not to scratch. “If ya ain’t like ‘em, you would say so.”

Hanzo pauses for a second and Jesse fears that he’s taken a misstep. Ready to back pedal and undo what his big mouth got him into, it doesn’t register to him that he’s breathing the same air as Hanzo until their lips press together. For a man with calloused hands and scarred skin, Hanzo’s lips were soft. Warm. Inviting. And Jesse was drawn in everytime. Returning the kiss with a light press of his own, relaxing into Hanzo’s hold, the hand caressing the back of his head traveling to cradle the back of his neck. Chasing after Hanzo as he pulled away wasn’t something he was ashamed of. Pressing his lips to the corner of the archer’s lips, pressing a soft kiss here and there just to feel him smile wilder when their lips met again only to break away, foreheads touching.

“Well, aren’t you bein’ kind?” Jesse whispered breathlessly, feeling like he’s walking on air rather than lower than dirt.

And without knowing how much he’s blessed him, Hanzo says nonchalantly, “Am I?”

The hand cradling the back of his neck slips into his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp and the haze lifts enough for Jesse to realize part of what this is. Groaning softly, he slips away to bury his face in Hanzo’s shoulder.

“Can we talk about it another time?” He asks, though the words are muffled, he angles his head to free his mouth. “Please?”

Hanzo is quiet for a stretch of time that may have only been seconds but felt like hours to Jesse. Then with a light squeeze and a light brush of the lips against the crown of his head, Hanzo nodded.

“If that is what you wish,” he says, slipping from Jesse’s hold though keeping a firm grasp on the gunslinger’s remaining hand. “Come.”

Jesse blinked rapidly, shaking his head. “C-Come again?”

“You may stay,” Hanzo said slowly. “Is that not why you came?”

“Darlin’, it’s late and I don’t wanna—”

A finger pressed to his lips effectively silencing him and his shoulders drew back as he felt the air near his ears crackle and pop. The air had the faint smell of something he couldn’t put his finger on. Like the air after a rain shower or a lightning storm, and he could swear that he heard the faintest of rumbling thunder.  Hanzo’s hand clasped around his wrist and Jesse startled, tensing up before relaxing as the archer’s hand trailed from his wrist to his fingers, lacing them together.

“Jesse,” he says, his voice calm and even, like the eye of a storm. “You are home.”

The phrase sinks in just as it always does. However this time, it feels like the meaning is different. Jesse squeezes Hanzo’s fingers and takes a tentative step forward before remembering his manners. Slipping his shoes off despite the slight difficulty with his heel catching. The spurs clink and rattle against one another as his boots clatter to the floor, socked feet falling in step with Hanzo’s as the archer practically drags him along. Well, practically might not have been the word for it.

It wasn’t as if Jesse was complaining after all. He just felt a mite helpless. Warm, fuzzy, safe. Like a kid who had a bad dream and needed a place to calm down. As they pass by a door, the thought sobers Jesse up and he slows down to a stop, Hanzo glancing at him over his shoulder. Being in Hanzo’s place enough times, Jesse knows exactly who is behind the door they passed and despite his age and such — he was still a gentleman after all.

“Sure the tykes won’t mind?” He asked in a low whisper, sparing a glance towards the door. 

Hanzo must’ve caught his meaning because he huffed, and Jesse could imagine him rolling his eyes. “If my sons did not approve of you, we would not be here right now.”

“Ouch,” Jesse feigned a slight stumble. “Got me right there in the heart, darlin’.”

Hanzo huffed through his nose, a soft chuckle escaping him. “My life is also theirs, I am their father afterall.”   
“Mighty good one at that,” Jesse mumbled, lifting their joined fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss to Hanzo’s knuckles. “Not bringin’ around anybody they ain’t gonna agree with.”

“It would be in poor taste,” Hanzo hummed, lowering their hands once Jesse was done. “Thankfully, you meet both their standards and mine.”

“And what might those be?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?

Jesse snorted. Typical Hanzo, typical asshole answer. “That’s why I”m askin’.”

“And I am not telling,” Hanzo shot back, and Jesse decided to concede the point lest they get loud enough to wake the kids.

“Mind if I check in on ‘em?”

Hanzo didn’t say anything but the door to the room creaked open and Jesse peeked inside. A faint silver light chased away the long shadows, dimly illuminating the room and the two children bundled up on the bed pressed to the furthest corner of the room. 

“They always sleep like that?” Jesse whispered, making room so that Hanzo could peer in as well. From his peripherals, Jesse could make out Hanzo’s smile and the warm look in his eye. 

“Mm, ever since Shingen was four,” the archer explained, glancing up at Jesse who quickly looked away. “It is comforting to Hayao.”

“I bet,” Jesse chuckled. “If I had someone like Shingen watchin’ my back, I’d sleep like a baby every night. No wonder I sleep well next to you.”

Hanzo stands rigid at his side, the curve of his smile dipping into a frown, a steely gaze locked onto something that Jesse cannot see. Retracing the words in his mind, Jesse curses.   
“Aw damn, tripped an emotional landmine, didn’ I?” He asks, chest tightening when Hanzo doesn’t react. “What’s on your mind?”

It takes a second but feels like forever until Hanzo looks at him, eyebrow cocked, amusement in his eyes.

“You came with your woes under lock and key, but mine are free game?”

The joke aside, Jesse’s eyebrows furrowed and he scowled. Two could play at that game although the thunderous voices in his head seemed to be laughing which meant there were  _ four _ players but Jesse McCree was never to be beaten or taken lightly.

“Han…”  Jesse warned, staring hard.

“Jess,” Hanzo replied, staring harder.

Jesse groans after awhile, throwing up his hand. “Alright, alright, yeah, I might’ve earned that.”

Hanzo huffs, taking his hand and pulling him along, though stopping to ease the boys’ door shut. “Come, let’s go to bed.”

“Might want to watch that phrasing,” Jesse teased, sidling up beside Hanzo with a smile.

“I know what I said, cowboy,” Hanzo says dryly, though he squeezes Jesse’s hand for good measure.

Upon entering the room and shutting the door, Hanzo sits down on the left side of the bed and starts to unlatch his prosthetics while Jesse hovers restlessly by the door. It’s only after the archer has his legs leant against the wall that he looks up and raises a brow.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” He asks wryly, patting the bed spread beside him. 

“Nah, I’m just uh… I wanted to uh… ask ya for somethin’,” Jesse grumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed, though he inched his way closer to Hanzo when the other man motioned him closer with a beckoning hand.

“And what would that be?”

“Why?”

Hanzo says nothing and Jesse swallows, waiting for hte answer to come, whatever it may be. And when it does, the archer succeeds in knocking the wind out of him again.

“You matter.”

Jesse’s throat bobs and he can feel his eyes stinging. Pressing the heel of his hand to them, he chokes out a laugh and nods, swiftly undoing the straps for his prosthetic and laying them on top of a nearby dresser. Taking off his serape and draping it across, his belt and buckle following after. Fist clenched at his side, he walks slowly but surely to the other side of the bed, wiggling out of his pants and leaving them in a heap on the floor along with his shirt. Though he has more trouble getting out of his shirt because of his blurred vision and hurriedness than anything else. Hanzo’s hands are much steadier than his own, helping him slip it up and over his head before coming to rest around his abdomen, easing him back against the archer’s chest, warm lips pressed to the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

“You matter,” Hanzo repeated. 

He presses a kiss there, then another against Jesse’s shoulder, repeating the words again and again, holding Jesse as the cowboy slowly unravels.

“You are wonderful.”

Another kiss to the back of his neck.

“You try so hard and you do so well.”

Another to the back of his head.

“You are—” Hanzo is cut off in mid-sentence as Jesse spins around in his grasp, hugging him close with a shuddering sob. The two practically fall over, pillowed by the mattress and the pillows, but Jesse shakes nonetheless as if he’s wracked with pain. His face buried in Hanzo’s hair while the archer rubs and pats his back, whispering soft assurements in every language he  _ knows _ that Jesse is acquainted with.

“You matter, Jesse,” Hanzo whispers, holding Jesse close even as the exhaustion steals his consciousness. “...You matter.”

* * *

Morning comes all too quickly with the sound of the door creaking open, and little feet rushing across the floor. Though before a dive bomb can be executed in full childish fashion, Hayao stops in mid-stride, taking in the sight of his Uncle Jesse sleeping curled up beneath his father’s arm. Tilting his head to the side, Hayao blinks a few times and slowly makes his way out of the room, only to return a few minutes later iwth a silver-white dragon plush. He eases it onto the bed, tucking it beneath his Uncle Jesse’s arm then beating a hasty retreat, slowly shutting the door after.

Hanzo cracks open an eye, glancing towards the door then Jesse’s sleeping form before laying down with a soft sigh, pressing another kiss to the cowboy’s shoulder.

**He will be fine, Shimada Hanzo. You must rest. The day is soon to begin.**

The thunderous voices of the dragons echoed in his ears and Hanzo could only hope that they were right. And even then, he would always be there to remind Jesse that he mattered. 

Even if it took every day for the rest of his life.


	3. To Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo and Jesse have a heart to heart, and the cowboy gains a new title.

When Jesse opened his eyes, the first thing that he noticed was the thing tucked beneath his arm. It was soft and squishy, barely noticeable, but against the dark blue duvet and off-white sheets, it was very noticeable. Blinking awake, Jesse shifted slightly and stared at the duvet then the sheets and finally the thing tucked beneath his arm. Tiny horns stuck from the top of its head, and its snout reminded him of a dragon’s. Though it was much smaller, less threatening, and far more cuddly than the dragons he’d seen tearing into bodies on the field. In fact, it almost seemed child-sized.

A child-sized dragon.

The sleep-filled haze lifted and Jesse almost bolted upright if not for the arm wrapped around his waist keeping him close to its owner. Face frozen in fear, he slowly turned to face the half-asleep gaze of Hanzo Shimada. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the man’s dark eyes boring into his own. Dark hair fanned against white pillows, brown eyes cracked open and observing him, a kaleidoscope of emotions reflecting through them. Jesse swallowed thickly, parting his lips but no words would come forth. He vaguely remembered coming to Hanzo’s room, the dragons beckoning him forth, seeing the boys fast asleep. And at the time it seemed like a good idea but now panic was slowly setting in.

The sun had already risen, it was more than likely late, he was intruding in Hanzo’s home — his children’s home. He had to get out, he had to go before —

“Jesse, breathe,” Hanzo muttered, the arm around Jesse’s waist tightening, the pressure bringing him down from the adrenaline high of anxiety. “I am here, Jesse. You are safe.”

It was almost embarrassing how quickly Hanzo could calm him. His heartbeat slowing to normal, breathing evening out, and hand ceasing its trembling. A pricking sensation at the corner of his eyes alerted him to the tears that threatened to fall. Hanzo’s finger swiping at the corner of them, dismissing the moisture before it had a chance to make its descent. Then with care, the archer’s hand cupped his cheek, fingers lacing into his hair and petting gently. Jesse groped around for the small dragon and lifted it up, laying it between them as Hanzo shifted closer to press their foreheads together.

After his shuddering sobs and gasping breaths ceased, Jesse dared to open his eyes, waiting until the blur of tears passed. Hanzo’s face coming into view and the emotions in his eyes shaking Jesse to his core. The hand petting his hair slipping down to lay against his chest, Hanzo’s lips brushing against the corner of his lips, a tender kiss pressed to both eyelids then the middle of his forehead. Endearments whispered in Japanese that Jesse vaguely remembered being spoken in his ear as he fell into a deep sleep the night before. Endearments whispered in the deep comforting voice that lulled him to sleep like the waves crashing against the shore, gently pulling him back into a warm embrace. 

If Hanzo’s voice was the ocean, Jesse would gladly dive deep.

“May I kiss you?” Hanzo asks, and Jesse opens his eyes, noting the soft smile that eases the knots in his stomach.

“Y’know you ain’t gotta ask for that, Han.”

Hanzo shakes his head, though his gaze momentarily flicks to Jesse’s lips before raising to meet his own. 

“Although our relationship is intimate, I am not entitled to your personal space nor your affections if it is not what you wish to give,” he explains, wincing slightly before drawing in a deep breath and a heavy sigh. “What you want is important to me, and I need to h—”

Jesse leans closer and their lips meet, cutting Hanzo off in mid-sentence. And as much as Jesse knows the archer hates to be interrupted when he is talking, before his eyes slip closed, he feels Hanzo’s fingers thread in his hair and pull him closer. Gentle chaste kisses, light pecks, pulling away and being brought back as the other chases, Hanzo’s hand in Jesse’s hair petting and lightly scratching at his scalp, a pleased hum emitting from the cowboy as he relinquishes his hold on the plush left perched on his chest. His hand finding the curve of Hanzo’s bicep, lightly tracing the outlines of his muscle, delighting in the way the archer shivers and he can’t tell whether it’s his smile or Hanzo’s that breaks the kiss but it doesn’t matter.

Looking into Hanzo’s eyes, Jesse can’t help but smile. Hanzo is a man of mystery who picks and choose what he wishes others to know and what he doesn’t. On more than one occasion, it was hard for Jesse to associate his best friend’s murderer with the man who would walk through the base with a child on his hip and another at his side, covered in snow with rosy-red cheeks. The smiles Hanzo would give him, the sheer joy he had being a father, the consideration he gave to the other agents.

And yet, he was also the man who would sit on the roof at the dead of night with only a gourd full of his choice of poison and thoughts to keep him company. Jesse thought the only thing keeping him from going over were his sons and his debt to Genji. He wondered what kept Hanzo going. What made him get up everyday? What pushed him to keep moving forward even when it felt like all was lost?

So when Jesse looked at him like this. The light in his eyes, openness in his expression, vulnerable yet unfearing, loving and all for Jesse — it made him feel as if he’d hung the moon and the stars in the sky and Hanzo was just in awe of him. 

_ Darlin’, you’re the amazing one. _

Taking a sobering breath, Jesse tore his gaze from Hanzo’s and eyed the plush watching him impassively from its perch on his chest. Running his fingers across the worn silver-white scales, he chuckled.

“Seems we had a visitor,” he says softly, a thrill running through him when Hanzo’s hand joins his own, overlapping their fingers to brush through the plush’s mane.

“Hayao has a habit of trying to ‘get me’,” Hanzo rolls his eyes and Jesse can’t help but laugh.

“Get you?”

“Yes, he seems to believe that if he can surprise me when I’m least expecting it, then his… ‘ninja skills’ will have gotten better.”

Jesse cocks a brow and turns to look at Hanzo who meets his gaze with a  small smile.

“Genji,” they say in unison, sharing a laugh.

Jesse squeezes the plush a little tighter. It  _ is  _ very soft and well-loved. More than once, he’d seen it poking out of Hanzo’s laundry basket as an eager little Hayao came barreling into the room, waiting for his father’s permission to take his dragon and flee. It warmed Jesse’s heart seeing the boy bouncing up and down with bated breath only to yell loud in excitement once his friend was returned to him. When no one else was present, or at least when Jesse stayed out and let the moment play out, watching from around the corner — Hanzo would dip down so his son could press a kiss to his cheek, a quiet “Arigatou, otou-san” said before Hayao hurries out, making a beeline for wherever his brother might’ve been.

Hanzo would appear shortly after, laundry basket on his hip, caught off guard by the presence outside the door but never defensive. It was one of the things that Jesse loved about him. Watching his retreating back, his son’s hand in his own, the latter skipping while Hanzo keeps a steady stride. 

A little family.

“If there was any doubt that Hayao did not care for you,” Hanzo interrupts, and Jesse wonders if this is becoming a routine — running away with his thoughts only for Hanzo to bring him back to reality. Though if it was, then he wasn’t complaining. “Then I believe this should put them to rest.”

“Should it?”

“It isn’t a child’s toy,” Hanzo looks at the dragon with a wistful sigh, tucking his head against Jesse’s shoulder. “Like your hat or my hair scarf,  _ this _ (his fingers trace over the dragon’s horn) is important to Hayao. When he was three, he tried to climb a tree without supervision and fell.”

Jesse’s breath hitched, “He didn’---”

“No,” Hanzo scowled. “Before he could sustain injury, Shingen caught him though he injured his ankle in the process. Hayao cried thinking he’d hurt Shingen and wouldn’t let him go for anything in the world.”

“Sounds like he learned his lesson,” Jesse brushed his lips against the crown of Hanzo’s head, the archer humming contentedly.

“Perhaps, but Shingen told me he saw something when Hayao fell, a silver mist that kept him suspended in mid-air long enough for Shingen to reach him.”

Jesse looked down at Hanzo and tried to wrap his head around this. Even Genji couldn’t tell him what the Dragons were. Their very existence seemed like something out of a fairy tale. And Jesse had his own personal grudges against them more or less for allowing the brothers to fight as they did. However, he guessed he could call it even. Hanzo and Genji made their choice, and if the spirits were protecting those kids who’d yet to embrace the cruelty of the real world — well, that might be enough for him.

“So this is supposed to be his dragon,” Jesse said, a newfound affection overcoming him for the plush that seemed much fiercer than it did a minute ago, but in a way that made him feel safe. “A lot cuddlier than yours.”

Hanzo chuckled, and Jesse could hear the faint sound of rumbling thunder in the back of his mind. “You should not say such things when the dragons have shown you leniency, Jesse,” he chided.

It took Jesse a moment to realize Hanzo was pulling his leg, the telling sign being the archer’s lips twitching up into a smile breaking his stoic expression. Rolling his eyes heavenward as Hanzo laughed, burying his face against Jesse’s neck, his body shaking with pure joy.  When he pulled away, Jesse’s breath hitched, Hanzo’s eyes shone a faint light blue that reminded Jesse of a clear summer sky. His smile threatened to split his face, and he seemed so young and happy, but the look in his eye when he met Jesse’s gaze was unmistakable. It had many names: affection, adoration, infatuation, cheer, joy, warmth — but the one Jesse settled on was love.

Unable to stop himself, Jesse said, “You’re beautiful.”

Hanzo’s smile fell and Jesse blinked absently, the weight of his words settling in the silence between them. Panic surged through him as Hanzo shifted closer until the two of them were practically nose to nose. Staring into the eyes of a dragon, Jesse remembered that Hanzo wasn’t  _ always _ cute and cuddly. The same perfect teeth that flashed in one of the archer’s rare smiles could rip him in half. Jesse gulped, hoping that now was not one of those times. 

“You,” Hanzo replied, and Jesse’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he waited for the other shoe to fall but it never did.

“Me?”

Hanzo nodded, tilting his head slightly, eyes half-lidded as their lips brushed together. Jesse a half-step slower than Hanzo as the other man pulled away.

“What about me, darlin’?” Jesse mumbled, looking from Hanzo’s eyes to his lips then back.

Instead of answering, Hanzo’s hands framed the sides of Jesse’s head, fingers tangling in his hair. Their lips slotted together and Jesse practically melted in Hanzo’s hands, encased by the warmth and pressing into the kiss, letting his eyes slip shut. Little breaks between soft open-mouthed kisses, allowing both men to have room for a pocket of air before they met again in the middle. Jesse shifting to lay on his side, chest bumping against Hanzo’s, hand splayed against the archer’s back, bringing him closer.

Every last one of his senses was taken over by Hanzo and Jesse was glad to let go even if it was short-lived. When the kiss ended, Hanzo’s forehead bumped against his own, and they breathed the same air while trying to come down from an indescribable high. Though before Jesse could even out his breathing, Hanzo stole it away.

“You are beautiful.”

The cowboy’s eyes shot open. Doubting his hearing for a second, he muttered a soft ‘huh’.

Hanzo eyed him without a word and Jesse tried not to fidget or squirm beneath his gaze. Then with a soft smile, Hanzo bid him closer with the hands tucked in his hair, pressing their foreheads together. “You are beautiful, Jesse,” he whispers with such tenderness and sincerity that Jesse’s admonishments floating about in his head are silenced. 

“Make no mistake that you are a wonderful man. Despite all that the world has done, you still believe that it can be saved, and you  _ try _ . You are your own man, a hero in your own right,” Hanzo opened his eyes and looked into Jesse’s, thumb catching a few of the strays tears that rolled down the cowboy’s cheek. “You are  _ my _ hero, Jesse.” 

“I didn’ do nothin’ special,” Jesse groused, leaning into Hanzo’s touch. 

“You saved me from myself, helped me…” Hanzo continued, thumb stroking along Jesse’s cheekbones. 

Misty-eyed and dry-mouthed, Jesse wasn’t sure what to say to that. He squeezed his eyes shut, unsuccessfully keeping the welled up tears from falling. “I messed up though…”

“And yet you are trying,” Hanzo pulled him closer and he bowed his head, burying his face in Hanzo’s shoulder, the long strands of his hair tickling Jesse’s cheek.

For a few minutes, they said nothing. Hanzo’s arms wrapped around him grounded him to the present but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. Hand grasping the duvet, Jesse dragged it up to Hanzo’s chest then abandoned it in favor of holding onto the archer. Through it all, Hanzo petted his hair and whispered softly against the crown of his head, pressing light kisses there, peppering others around his temples. A part of Jesse never wanted this to end but reality had a way of crashing down even in the softest of moments. However, he couldn’t unwound himself from Hanzo, settling on resting his cheek against the other man’s shoulder, glaring absently at the nearest wall.

“Tryin’ isn’t always good enough, Han.”

Hanzo hummed, and Jesse immediately thought over the sentence, cursing his word choice. Trying is what Hanzo has been doing since he first  _ came _ to the Watchpoint. What was he thinking saying something stupid like that? Floundering for the words, Hanzo speaks up before he has the chance to apologize.

“It is for me.”

Looking up at the archer, Jesse’s heart clenches when Hanzo meets his gaze unflinchingly.

“You are enough for me.”

One of the archer’s hands dislodges from his person and Jesse isn’t embarrassed to admit that he missed the contact as quickly as it vanished. A soft plush weight settles between them and Jesse glances down at the small dragon pressed against his chest, staring up at him with a stately gaze.

“For us.” 

Jesse’s eyes snap up to meet Hanzo’s, and the latter smiles softly. 

Lost for words, Jesse blows a puff of air and snorts indignantly, “How d’you know all the right things to say?”

“Fatherhood,” Hanzo says with a casual shrug,  “And I am not as socially inept as most would think.”

Jesse’s stifles his laughter against Hanzo’s shoulder. “You’re tellin’ me.”

The two lapse into a comfortable silence after a small fit of laughter, holding one another with unspoken words floating between them, though content enough to let sleeping dogs lie until it was time to wake them from slumber. After some time, the door cracked open and Jesse glanced over as a small head of messy black hair poked through. He knew he had to be making that face most adults did when faced with an adorable child, but it couldn’t be helped. Genji told him that Hayao reminded him of Hanzo when they were young. Except for the atrocious middle-part that both brothers shuddered to talk about.

Hayao’s dark hair fell to his shoulders, thick and messy, barely tameable with a comb and he barely came up to Jesse’s thigh. Face round and youthful, dark eyes wide with curiosity as he peered around the door. Jesse bites back a laugh when Hayao creeps into the room, his white pachimari t-shirt and checkered pajama pants a dead giveaway no matter how much ninja kid training he had. He steps carefully and quietly to Jesse’s side of the bed, and after a few unsuccessful attempts, manages to climb onto the bed, his small hands pressing against Jesse’s side as he leans over.

“Uncle Jesse,” he whispers, throwing a leg over Jesse’s side  and sitting down on his hip, gently patting his cheek. “ _ Uncle Jesse _ .” 

Pretending to rouse from sleep with a soft huff, Jesse cracked open one eye and smiled, “Hey there partner.” Jesse shot a glance towards Hanzo who was apparently fast asleep with both eyes closed. Under his breath, Jesse muttered ‘traitor’ and swore that the corner of Hanzo’s lips twitched upwards even if it was just for a second.

“Did you have a nightmare, Uncle Jesse?”

Call Jesse McCree many things but he wasn’t a liar when it came to kids. 

“Just a lil’ one, Howie, nothin’ to worry about.”

Hayao’s eyebrows furrow and Hanzo’s squeeze around his waist tells him that he said the wrong thing. The archer’s eyes crack open and he feigns waking by stretching and yawning loudly. Hayao’s attention immediately taken by the “waking” of his father, beaming as he clambers off Jesse to dive onto Hanzo. Jesse smiles, watching as Hanzo lifts his son up with his hands tucked under the boy’s arms.

“And how did you sneak in here, little one?”

“I got better at being quiet, dad. No one heard me, not even Uncle Jesse.”

Hanzo hummed and lowered his arms, tucking Hayao to his chest and kissing the top of his head, giving him a cuddle. Jesse was absolutely certain that if his heart wasn’t warm by then, it was positively melting now. Imposing and dangerous nature aside — Hanzo Shimada was no stranger to cuddling and was absolutely adorable with a child clinging to his front, the man talking to him lowly until the dragon plush catches Hayao’s eye and he relinquished his hold on his father to pick it up, holding it out to Jesse.

At a loss for words, and slightly embarrassed at being caught staring, Jesse asks awkwardly, “That for me, darlin’?”

“Mhm, Mugen won’t let the monsters get you,” Hayao says, leaning further out of Hanzo’s arms to lay it in Jesse’s hands. He briefly takes notice of Jesse’s missing arm but says nothing, instead squirming out of Hanzo’s hold in favor of Jesse’s.

“Monsters?”

It’s a balancing act trying to hold the plush and Hayao at the same time. In the end, Hanzo  helps by sitting the boy on Jesse’s lap with plush in hand, Hayao leaning back against the cowboy’s chest as his father tried to fix his sleep-ruffled hair into some semblance of order. After a bit, Hanzo gave up and huffed, Hayao laughing at his father’s feigned annoyance as the archer ruffled his hair making it even messier than it was before. Jesse smiled. Somehow it felt right —  _ this _ felt right.

Hanzo with his hair loose and a wide smile on his face, making silly faces and slipping into his mother tongue, talking eagerly to his son who laughed and played along. Occasionally, the boy would look up at Jesse and grin, reminding him that he was part of this. 

This moment.

_ You matter to us. _

“Uncle Jesse?”

Snapping back to reality, Jesse didn’t notice when the playfulness stopped and both Hayao and Hanzo were watching him with concern. He sniffs and coughs lightly, wiping under his eyes.

“...Hey Howie, you remember how… a while back you uh… drew lil ol’ me a picture?”

Hayao tilted his head and looked to Hanzo. The archer whispered something low that Jesse couldn’t quite make out but Hayao seemed to understand. He looked back at Jesse and nodded.

“Mhm, did you like it?” A nervous twinge to his voice tugged at Jesse’s heartstrings.

Wrapping his arm around the boy’s waist, he nodded. 

“Yeah, yeah.. I did. Course I did.”

There was no way he couldn’t. This between him and Hanzo was for the long haul it seemed and if he was going to be part of Hanzo’s life, he had to be a part of theirs. But with that came a sleugh of things he wasn’t ready to admit or face. What if he messed up? What if he hurt them? Hanzo would never talk to him again, and he had no idea how to be a father. Hardly had one of his own. It just felt like too tall of an order even for a cowboy that defied the odds time and time again.

But when Hayao looked at him, eyes alight with trust and cheer, it was hard to think of saying ‘no’ especially to a heartfelt request like that. After all, he wasn’t cruel enough to break a kid’s heart.

Clearing his throat, Jesse kept the boy’s gaze and floundered for the words,  “Listen uh… bein’ a dad it uhm… it takes a lot. It  _ is _ a lot but if ya want… if it’s okay with your dad (His gaze flicked to Hanzo whose head bobbed in understanding or approval, either way it made Jesse pause and take a deep breath, exhaling before he continued) and your brother..… I’d.. like to be your dad.”

“Papa,” Hayao interrupted, voice soft.  “If you were dad, that’d be weird because we already have dad.”

Hayao nestled against Jesse’s chest, laying his small hands on Jesse’s forearm.

“Okay?” He asked, carefully. “Papa?”

Swallowing the tears and the fears that clogged his throat, Jesse nodded. From his peripheral, Hanzo smiled at him and he gave a shuddering sigh.

“If ya think I’m good enough…” Jesse nodded, laying a light kiss to the top of Hayao’s head, making him giggle and smile up at him.   “Then yeah, I’m your Pa.”


	4. Or Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little match between brothers breaks out, Hanzo and Jesse talk a little, and a minor mistake is made.

After rambling off the long list of exciting things he’d been up to from learning about demolitions with the Junkers to a Ghibli movie marathon with Genji, Hayao climbed off Jesse’s lap and wiggled his way off the side of the bed. Sparing one last glance at Mugen sitting proudly on the cowboy’s lap with eyes trained on the door to smite any intruders that would dare enter — Hayao nodded and headed out the door, yelling that he was going to wake up his brother leaving Hanzo and Jesse in the aftermath. The latter’s body began to shake with trembling laughter that spilled out in snorts and giggles before erupting. For a second, Hanzo looked startled and even concerned as Jesse doubled over while holding his stomach. His cheeks reddening with how much he’d been laughing, gasps for breaths making Hanzo shift closer, the gunslinger raising a hand to stop him.

“Hoo boy,” Jesse sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Was always told I got the devil’s luck, ‘m glad it didn’t run out yet.”

Hanzo looked at him with a confused expression and Jesse chuckled, scooting closer and leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek then another to the corner of his mouth. Eventually, his frown turned upward and Jesse leaned away, knowing the same lovestruck expression was prevalent on his own features.

“Been meanin’ to ask you what this,” he gestured between them with the use of Mugen’s snout. “Was. Guess I got my answer, huh?”

Dipping close for another chaste kiss, Hanzo mumbled back, “I guess you did.”

A grin split Jesse’s lips but it was short lived as a wild cry echoed from down the hall. The door flying open, Hayao barreling through laughing and jumping onto the bed, almost narrowly missing tripping over Jesse’s legs. Behind him, Shingen came charging in and spied his little brother cackling maniacally from the high ground. Jesse almost had to ask Hanzo if he was seeing things when Hayao sliced through the air between him and his brother with his hand then puffed out his chest.

“It’s over, big brother,” the six-year-old said grimly. “For I have the high ground.”

No one moved. No one said a word. Both boys locked in a stalemate, staring at one another intently. From the corner of his eye, Jesse could see Hanzo turning over and adjusting himself over the side of the bed. The look of his face of a father resigned to his childrens’ antics, although from the way his mouth was twitching as he tried to fight down a smile, Jesse knew he didn’t mind it. And it was pretty entertaining to watch.

Shingen wore a black t-shirt emblazoned with Overwatch’s symbol, and matching pants like his brother. However, he also had a pillow strapped to his back. Slowly yet surely, he undid the strap which was nothing more than a few old shoelaces tied together and wielded the pillow with a wicked gleam to his eye. Both brothers stared one another down and Hanzo slowly stood up after connecting his legs.

“Jesse, would you like breakfast?”

Unable to look away from the battle before him, Jesse nodded and Hanzo hummed his approval.

“Boys, would you like breakfast?”

Almost on cue, both children looked towards their father and nodded then returned to staring one another down. Hanzo sighed and ruffled his own hair then made his way through the bedroom door, only stopping to give them each a light peck on the forehead or cheek.

“Don’t destroy anything, okay?”

“Alright, dad!” They cried in unison, staring one another down for a minute longer before leaping into action.

Shingen swung the pillow at Hayao but his little brother was just as tricky as he was tiny. Ducking beneath the pillow and rolling backwards on the bed, he narrowly kept from kicking Jesse’s in the face. The cowboy deciding now would be the best time to get up and meet Hanzo in the kitchen. Now that both boys were wrestling on their father’s bed, swinging the pillow and flailing or releasing earth-shattering war cries. With Mugen cradled beneath his arm, Jesse grabbed his pants from the dresser he left them on and beat a hasty retreat, leaving the door half-cracked.

“Do they do that all the time?” Jesse asked, backtracking into the kitchen area where Hanzo was washing his hands.

“Only when Hayao wakes Shingen up by challenging him to a duel at sunrise,” the archer replied without looking, drying his hands before going to the small refridgerator.

Jesse looked between him and the digital clock displaying Athena’s symbol perched on top of the television. “...It’s about noon.”

“To Hayao, sunrise is whenever the sun is up,” Hanzo glanced over his shoulder with a casual shrug and Jesse knew his heart shouldn’t have been beating this fast.

It was weird. Although he already knew nothing involving a Shimada made sense, this was a whole new level. Shingen and Hayao’s war cries continued in earnest and Hanzo milled about the kitchen without batting an eye. Even after the door to his room opened wider, a pillow sailing out of it and hitting the floor with a loud smack. Jesse turned around and furthered his distance from the door, taking up a place between the wall and the fridge.

“Are you not going to stop them?”

Hanzo paused for a second, lifted his head then shook it. “No, Shingen would never harm Hayao. It isn’t in his nature.”

Listening to the boys struggling and yelling made Jesse’s stomach roil. He’d heard about the infamous Shimada fights from Genji. How sudden it can happen and how hollow it can make you feel. Before he can stop himself, he muttered, “You sure about that?”

Hanzo turned to look at him and Jesse raised his hand.

“Not… y’know, but havin’ a little brother I’d imagine is kinda—”

“I’m sure.”

The sheer determination and confidence in Hanzo’s voice was reflected in the look on his face. Jesse’s hand slowly fell and he heard laughter, bare feet hurrying across the floor as both boys ran down the hall. Hanzo glancing at them with a tender smile that nearly broke Jesse’s heart.

“If there is anyone who will look after Hayao, it is him.”

Jesse looked over just as Shingen managed to grab Hayao, twirling him around before they collapsed together in a heap. Laughing and tousling lazily with soft smiles. These kids were different, he tried to tell himself. They were raised different, maybe even better.

And there was nothing to worry about.

Jesse cleared his throat. “Well, they’ll be hungry after their duel. Let’s make ‘em somethin’ nice.”

Hanzo’s smile returned and he nodded, seemingly grateful for the change of pace.

“And Han?”

“Hm?”

“You raised some good kids.”

The look Hanzo gave him did in fact steal Jesse’s breath away although it also distracted him from the pillow that smacked him right in the face.

"Oops," Hayao covered his mouth and both brothers looked at each other. "Sorry, Papa!"

Hanzo practically howled with laughter at the dumbfounded look on Jesse's face and eventually the boys joined in as well. Jesse did his best to look angry but in the end, it was hard not to smile.

"...Wait.. what do you mean 'papa'?"

Jesse and Hanzo froze in place. Uh-oh.

**Author's Note:**

> Like my work and would like to support me, [why not buy me a coffee](https://ko-fi.com/iyhuckleberry)?


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